Another World
by Little-Firestar84
Summary: They call it the butterfly effect. Just one small, random adjustment, and all changes. And here there is, another world. A world where his daughter has never been, his late wife is an ex and he is still a psych. And yet, few things just can't change. Some things are written in the stars, just like love at first sight.
1. A Chance Encounter

**Title:Another world**  
**Author:**Little_firestar84  
**Rating:** T (to be on the safe side)  
**Characters: **Patrick Jane, Teresa Lisbon  
**Summary:** They call it the butterfly effect. Just one small, random adjustment, and all changes. And here there is, another world. A world where his daughter has never been, his late wife is an ex and he is still a psych. And yet, few things just can't change. Some things are written in the stars, just like love at first sight.  
**Disclaimer:** Uhm. well, my father is called Bruno, but since it's Negro and not Heller, I'd say tha t I don't own the rights to the Mentalist.  
**Notes:** Extented version of "In this life", published around mid-September.

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1/8

Sometimes, calling Grace naive wasn't even enough. Yes, Teresa Lisbon knew that her colleague was quite... innocent, and a firm believer of things she wasn't supposed to believer of things she wasn't supposed to keep believing at her age and in her line of work. Not in the twenty-first century, at least.

Religion, Teresa could handle it. She was a catholic herself, she wore a cross around her neck and kept going to Mass whenever she could.

Grace's believes where, though, a whole other matter. Hell, she could even deal with a "life after death" thing, but what Grace believed in... no, no way in freaking hell. She wasn't going to clap her hands for... for...

_Fraud was _the only words coming through her mind when she had to think about Patrick Bartholomew Jane, also known as the mighty Jane. A psych for the delusional idiots who believed in that sort of things, a criminal and vulgar fraud for her and the 99% of people working in law enforcement. Grace was probably the only one believing in him among the people Teresa knew and worked with. But then Again, Grace thought that psych powers run in her family...

"Oh my god, he is looking at us, he is looking at us!"

Teresa grunted, her eyes once again on her phone. Yes, Grace could be... stupid, to believe in such a thing, but was she any different? Not because of her religion - there was no way she was going to compare her religion to that act - but because, once again, she had allowed her good heart to do as other pleased. She should have said no when Grace had proposed to spend their Friday evening there, but she had not been able to. First, she was a goner for puppy dog eyes. Second, she still felt bad because, as team leader and senior agent in charge, she had forced Grace to break up with another fellow team member, Rigsby. And they had been quite in love. Maybe it hadn't been the kind of love that moved the mountains, but she still felt bad about it, despite what they kept telling her.

"How can you be so sure? The place is full!" She told the last word with disbelief and even an hint of disgust. She really couldn't believe it. All those people were professionals, educated, and they were supposed to know the world they lived in. They watched TV, right?

_Right. Because TV isn't full of people just like this clown. _Not that Patrick Jane looked like a clown. Not at all-he was quite handsome, and probably he was even charming, in a contorted kind of way. But she knew better, look wasn't everything and charming men were often manipulative. And besides, she was going to bet a year worth of salary that he was the kind of man who didn't know what being faithful could mean, and who slept around.

She could very well imagine him signing breasts. Actually, she was almost positive that it was the kind of things that The Mighty Jane did on regular basis.

"You know boss, you could at least pretend of having fun." Even if she hadn't known Grace like she did, she would have heard the disappointment from a very, very long distance. Like, the other side of the world.

But... well, in another occasion, she bet she would have had her fun, at least at looking how pathetic those people were, and their inability to understand it wasn't magic, supernatural powers, God but just a con. But she couldn't relax. Last case wasn't going as it was supposed to, and Cho had sworn he would have called her if he had discovered something new. But he hadn't called, and now, that poor woman risked not getting justice. And her family wasn't going to get any closure, and like a survivor herself, like a girl who had never discovered who had killed her own mother, she knew the kind of scars that such a pain left, how it could tear apart a family. She definitely hoped that Brendon Lane wasn't going to turn into her father.

"Boss? I think Mr. Jane is looking at you... oh, you are so lucky! Maybe he'll call you on stage!" Yet again Teresa grunted, laughing hysterically under her teeth, barely resisting mocking Grace.

First, with all the sexy bimbos in the room, why would he look at her, a tomboy with no make-up and still with her work clothes, and second... well, if he would dare to even try to call her on stage, he could bet she would be having the time of her life, showing the world who and what he truly was.

And... well, she realized, blushing, that he was indeed looking in her general direction, grinning like that cat that got the canary. For a short while, when their eyes where meeting, staring at each other like nobody else was there, she felt both dread and anticipation at the idea of being on stage with him. She still didn't believe in him and his powers, but now, she could definitely understand his appeal as a _man. _He was charming and sexy and he knew it, and he made her stomach... well, jump like it hadn't done in very, very long time. But still, it didn't change anything. He was still a manipulative, elf-centered, egoistical asshole and con-artist. AND she still wasn't his type.

"Listen, show's almost over. Do you mind staying here on your own? I'd like to go in the hall and call Cho. See how the Lane investigation is going..." She whispered, already on her feet.

"But boss, maybe he will call you on stage and..." as on cue, The Mighty Jane called a twenty something girl on stage, and, cheering up inside, without even waiting for Grace to say more, nor replying, she went to the hall.

As soon as the door of the conference room was closed at her back, Teresa took a big, huge breath of relief. Her stomach was still jumping, and her heart hadn't beat that fast in almost ten years. She blushed, shaking her head and lecturing herself (not even internally).

Only naive idiots cold get a crush for Patrick Jane by merely seeing him on stage. And she wasn't part of any of those categories. Definitely not. She was Senior Agent in charge Teresa Lisbon, and she knew better than that.

And yet... she kind of envied the other brunette who had joined him on stage. Not that she really liked him, but she was, kind of curious. He had taken her hand in his owns. And she wondered how they could feel. They seemed big, warm, and yet delicate and expert.

_Expert? _She wondered where the thought had come from, blushing furthermore. She had just not thought about his hands doing indecent things to her. Definitely not. She wasn't even the kind of girl who liked that things. Well, actually, she didn't mind them, but usually, she was more of...

She shivered, castigating yet again herself. She so wasn't going to go there. Not after having mocked Van Pelt over her crush (or whatever it was) for the guy. Definitely not. Not even in a million of years. Teresa Lisbon wasn't that kind of girl.

Usually.

She laughed, shaking her head, and dialed Cho's number by memory, relieved when he answered immediately. Sometimes, he and Rigsby... well, her guys did have the tendency of getting into troubles easily, it wasn't a mystery. Like it wasn't a mystery that they tended to leave her out in the dark to avoid troubles and repercussions on her persona. They seemed to know that the new director wasn't exactly thrilled by her, since she wasn't so sweet with him and hadn't fall in bed with him like many others female senior agents had.

"Ehy, any news? What? No, fun is too big of a word. Yeah, well, I know, I know. Well, I'll try to rest her begging eyes next time. No, listen, I was wondering... No, I know you said you would have called me as soon as you heard something, but I thought that you were being... well, polite. What does your CI say? Well, try again. And send Rigsby to talk with Miss Lancaster, our witness, first thing tomorrow morning. She said something about a blue corvette. See if there's any reported stolen after the fact. Ok, I'll see you in the morning."

She finished the call, and she quickly moved to the stools, sitting right before the bartender - her usual type, dark haired, tall, handsome, even if few years younger than her. She smiled, flirting a little, and ordered a beer for herself. She drank it massaging the knots in her neck to try to alleviate the tension, and a look at the clock, indicting the time all over the world, told her that the show should have finished already.

She considered ordering for Grace, then, decided against it. The redhead was a big girl, she could do that on her own. And besides, she was still royally pissed off because she had dragged her along, promising entertainment and offering instead The Mighty Jane (and sleepless nights doomed by stupid, senseless, erotic dreams).

"Boss, You should have stayed! You can't imagine what Mr. Jane did! The girl who went on stage? Her name's Yolanda, he told her that her grandmother, who passed away recently, is glad that she has her pearls, and that she had never considered it a sacrifice, having taken her in when the mother left everyone and escaped with the gardener."

Saying that Lisbon was shocked wasn't enough. Van Pelt was good and talented, had potential and was a promising agent. Seeing her falling for such a thing, for such a low act, it was kind of a turn-off. Because, seriously? Either it was staged, or the guy was what people referred to as a mentalist. Either way: he wasn't a psych.

"Listen Grace, don't you think you should consider the idea that this guy may..."

"Here you are! I've been looking for you what feels an eternity! I thought you were already gone!" She turned, and at her back here he was, in all his Armani clad glory none other than Patrick Jane himself. "Hi, I'm..."

"Patrick Jane, I know who you are. I've been at your show, remember?"

He nodded, grinning, invading her personal space as much as he could, getting between the two women. "And you are?" he asked her, taking her hand in his own and kissing, longer than he was supposed to, her knuckles. She resisted gasping, something that a very thrilled Van Pelt didn't bother doing. She faked being annoyed as she took her hand back, away from his gasp, but, if she was honest, the temptation of keeping indulging in that guilty pleasure was very, very strong. His hands were soft and delicate, yet she could feel their strength, could see that life hadn't always been that way for him. They were the hands of someone who was used to work hard. And his lips... they were too full and soft, no man should possess such lips (she almost envied him) and she didn't feel like talking about his eyes. Big, pale green, happy, amused, intriguing eyes. They were the eyes of someone who was mischievous, smart and clever. And probably very, very, very good in bed.

She could say he was using his killer smile on her, and at the thought her stomach jumped yet again. Even if she knew that it was probably a technique, she couldn't help being flattered. No that she was going to tell him. No way. Hell had to freeze first.

"Aren't you the psych? No ghost from my ancestors telling you the story of life? What a pity..." she pouted, but he could see she was making fun of him, and the thought made him laugh. Not many women had dared to act this way with him, even fewer had resisted his charm. And Patrick Jane couldn't resist a challenge. Especially if it was in a charming , sexy package as this woman.

"Have dinner with me" her asked, getting closer and closer. He was so close, that for an instant she thought he was going to kiss her, and this time, on the lips. She didn't know if she could have resisted a kiss from him, as wrong as it was, also because... because in the blink of an eye, he had changed. He wasn't playful any longer, he was almost... she didn't know how to describe it, but when their eyes had met yet again, they were suddenly... they were serious, longing, like he didn't just want her, but _need her._

She resisted saying yes, because, deep down, she knew herself, and knew him. She tended to fall for troubled men, men who would hurt her, unfaithful men... and Patrick Jane fitted the description completely.

"Sorry Mr. Jane, but I'm not interested in fake psychs and con artists." She said with venom in her voice, just before leaving.

As he looked at her back, chuckling, hearing the redhead making excuses for her friend, he wondered what he could do to get to see her once again.

He had never been able to resist a challenge. And a challenge the feisty brunette was. Definitely.


	2. Looking for you

**Title:Another world**  
**Author:**Little_firestar84  
**Rating:** T (to be on the safe side)  
**Characters: **Patrick Jane, Teresa Lisbon  
**Summary:** They call it the butterfly effect. Just one small, random adjustment, and all changes. And here there is, another world. A world where his daughter has never been, his late wife is an ex and he is still a psych. And yet, few things just can't change. Some things are written in the stars, just like love at first sight.  
**Disclaimer:** Uhm. well, my father is called Bruno, but since it's Negro and not Heller, I'd say tha t I don't own the rights to the Mentalist.  
**Notes:** Extented version of "In this life", published around mid-September.

AND: either you give me as many reviews as with last chapter (at least) or I'll be a very bad girl and I'll not update... and you want to know how it will end, right?

* * *

2/8

He just couldn't stop thinking about her.

He didn't know what it was, that woman had definitely not been the first one he had seen, nor the first one who had rejected him. Yet, he couldn't get her out his head like he was some teenager with a crush for his teacher. Maybe it was because he had never refused a good challenge, or maybe...

Well, there was a reason, a thought knocking to the back of his mind with insistence. But he didn't feel like letting it in. He just couldn't acknowledge such a thing. It was, maybe not too much, but it just wasn't whom he had been raised to be. Patrick Jane was a pratical man, and with that, he ment he was a master liar and manipulator. From a tender age, he had always taken, and he didn't feel like changing any time soon. Angela, his first wife, had tried to talk him out of that life, but she had soon given up: she had soon gotten bored of arguing with him, and it hadn't taken him that long to explain her how different their lives could be, hadn't he been a "psych".

(Besides, after a taste of real life shortly after they escaped, she had soon realized that she prefered glamour and money to good faith and truth)

Still, he needed to see her again. He needed to have her, no matter what, one way or another. Because... Because... Because...

She was different. He could already see that she was the kind of person who didn't take any crap from people (men) like him. She wanted the real deal, and he knew she was one of the few that could handle a man like him. She hadn't fallen for him, wasn't head over heels in love with him - she had just been there because the redhead had tricked her into accepting, after all - and that was why he knew she was what (and who) he needed the most. She was real, wasn't after his name, his fame or his money.

But that fire in her eyes... that was what he was really after. Even from afar, he had seen it, had seen what a warrior she was. She was... majestic, inside out. He had even wondered if he couldn't ask her to join him on the stage for a cold-reading (not that he was going to admit that it was just that, and not a conversation with some late, long lost ancestor of hers), but had decided against it. He could see that she would have killed him with her tongue, showed the world who Patrick Jane truly was. She had challanged his authority, his persona, everything he... well, maybe not what he stood for, but at least, what he_ pretended_ to be, to stand for.

She wasn't even his type, both mentally and physically. He was used to go after bimbos, fake blondes with fake breasts, retarded (as in silly gooses) in the best case, dumb idiots in the other. And they were good for him. They could be good, until a certain point. Past their usual one night stand, there wasn't so much more they could do for him.

And, God (or whatever. He wasn't exactly religious) he wanted more, despite a failed marriage, despite the terrible (just a couple, short-lived) relationships he had been into after that messy divorce of his, he wanted - and needed - more.

And she was the chosen one.

Just his luck his soon to be second wife was as sexy as hell too. A natural hotness, increased by that fire he kept seeing in her eyes, such a passion... it was like with flames. You know you aren't supposed to try to touch them, and yet you try anyway. It was the same with her. He wanted for that fire to burn him down, engulf him completely until nothing was left of his old him, and he was reborn anew like a phoenix from its ashes. That woman, whoever she was, could be his damnation or a fresh start. He needed to find her, at any cost.

"Listen, Lars, my man, say..." he walked (strolled) towards his agent, busy checking schedules and private sessions for the next few days. Lars was probably one of the best things that had happened to Jane in his life, and he would have made a perfect wife, had he been a woman. He was... well, he was exactly like his mistery woman (only, he was man). Bad-ass, straight as a nail, fueled. And realistic: Jane knew he tended to be a bit over the top at times, he forgot how a person was supposed to live in the world, and Lars was exctly what he needed when he needed a dose of reality.

(Just like when he tended to forget that just because he had a Ferrari, he didn't have to drive it maximum speed on every single road of California).

Mercifully, he was also immune to his charm, unlike other etherosexual males out there, so he knew when to say no and how to say it (often, he didn't even had to, all they needed was a look, that was how good they knew each other).

"Whatever it is, forget it, Rick." he smiled, almost chuckling. Straight as an arrow Lars always knew when Patrick Jane was walking through a dangerous territory. "I stopped getting into troubles because of you when I was 13. So, Thanks but no thanks."

"Lars, Lars, Lars, you don't even know what I was going to ask you..."

"Rick, Rick, Rick, I saw that look, I heard that tone, and I already knew you were up to something. Sorry pal, been there, done that, got too many t-shirts. And I'm done getting them because of you."

"I just need to know who was sitting at 4C yesterday evening, that's all. It's no big deal, really."

"Are you planning a con? Because if yu are planning a con I don't want to know anything, ok? Deniability, we talked about it, the less I know, the better it is. Repeat after me: I shall grant Lars deniability. Let's pretend this is your mantra."

"No, no, it's not about the money. Nope, there was this woman last night. I tried to talk her into having dinner with me, but she just went away, and I didn't even asked for her name." He prefered to avoid telling him that she had actually refused the invitation, calling him a pretender, a liar, a criminal and a con-artist.

"If you think I'm going to save your ass from the next poor husband whose wife cheated on him with you, you are delusional, ok? I still have the scars from the last time!"

"First, no ring, I checked. Second, if there is something you know I believe in, it's the sanctity of marriage. I've never slept with a woman I knew being married, I don't break apart families. Third, it's not about just sex. She... intrigues me."

He smirked. Yes, Lars wasn't susceptible to his charm, but when driven to exasperation... and he knew when Patrick Jane was about to drive him into exasperation.

"Ok, ok, let me see. I think I memorized the map somewhere on my Blackberry, since you hate tecnology. If she pre-ordered the ticket we should know who she is... uhm... nope, no name. It hadn't been reserved. Sorry man, your quest for rightful love seems to be already over!" Lars turned off the mobile and put it back into his pocket, smirking a bit too satisfied. Jane could understand it, really, after all, they had passed too many troubles because of Jane himself, but it didn't mean that his agent had to be happy because his long time best friend couldn't find true love.

"Ok, then try 4C, the sit next to hers. There was a redhead, they were together or they knew each other, and from her eagerness to see me, I think she is the kind of girl that makes reservations six months prior when she knows that she is going to see a certain show." This time, he was the one smirking satisfied. Vanity wasn't a good thing (and the brunette probably hated him for that reason too), but it wasnt like he didn't have any reason to be actually full of himself. He was good at what he did, always had been, he had the look and the charm, and people loved him for that.

"4C, OK... yep, there is a name and even after all those years I still hate when you are right. Name's Grace Van Pelt. She bought two tickets as we opened sellings, and left two names. Hers, and Wayne Rigsby." He grinned again, but this time evilly, and kind of malicious.

"No" Jane simply replied, extremely annoyed. He almost (but just almost) crossed his arms.

"What?" He could see that Lars was playing the innnocent, the "I don't know what you are talking about" card, but he could see his friend was lying from miles. After all, they knew each other better than they knew themselves. And then, Jane was still the Mighty Jane, after all.

"You were going to ask me if I thought she was a drag queen, a transgender or what else, but trust me, she isn't. No, I think Grace dear broke up with Wayne, maybe even because of the brunette. She had always been a bit unsure of this relationship, this is why she didn't take a ticket on his name only. She knew that he would have felt compelled to go anyway, but things would have been awkward, would they have called things off, like it happened. " he paused, reflecting. "I think that they may be working together."

"Grace and Wayne?" another stern look from Jane made Lars shiver, and he got that it was no time to kid. "I hate it when you go all Sherlock Holmes on me."

"Yes, I know, now, would you like to search her name in the internet for me? Maybe there's a picture of her friend too. I'd do it mysef, but I should read internet for dummies first, and it's not my thing. We both know that I have an image to protect, right?"

"I so feel like a slave you know? And I don't even do everything you ask me to do!"

"Yes, yes, very interesting, and I'm so sorry, but would you like to drop it and search for this Van Pelt Girl? Thanks. And don't bother telling me that one of these days you'll call our partnership off, because we both know that there is a reason we've been friends for the last 30 years."

"First, I'll say it again, I hate you. Second, don't give me any of your "we complete eact other crap", third, there is actually a Grace Van Pelt living in Sacramento, with red hair. And... she is a cop. There are so many articles about her in the last few weeks alone! Apparently, she was part of the unit that closed some big case... let me see this link... wow. She apprended one of Red John's minions, her ex, and her boss almost lost her life to stop the serial killler himself."

"Red John? Didn't we offer my help to catch him few years ago? I think I may have told you what you were supposed to say to the CBI director to get me on the investigation. Which, in case you had forgotten, it didn't happen."

"Yes, I know, it was after the divorce, when you were in dire need of good pubblicity because Angela told everyone you were sleeping around and had broken her poor little heart, and yes, you told me the exact words I was supposed to say on your behalf. Now that I think about it, there was that woman, a brunette, she told me something about not wanting a fake pysch and a con artist messing with her investigation..."

"Feisty brunette with huge green eyes like emeralds? Legs to die for?"

"I don't know. To be honest, I was too occupied with wetting my pants to see her eyes or her legs. She was kind of scary."

"Scary and passionate, yes, that's her, my girl." He grinned, satisfied, like a kid on Christmas morning. "What's her name? Where can I find her? Quick! C'mon, It's about the rest of my life we are talking about here! She may be my soul-mate, my second wife, the mother of my children!"

_Drama queen _Lars thought lifting his eyebrows, but he knew better than saying it at loud. When Rick was in drama mode, it was better to keep it quiet, if you didn't want for things to get worse. The man could get really, really annoying when he wanted. And besides, there was an old saying that Jane was a master at putting in pratice: ten words could destroy a person.

"Name's Teresa Lisbon, senior agent in charge at the SCU of the CBI, 31 years old. Youngest agent to have that position. She is kind of a superstar, a kid prodigy, or whatever they call kids like her."

"I knew it! Our children will be beautiful and super genius! Ah! And you mock me because of Holmes!

Lars lifted yet again an eyebrow. He really felt like mocking Rick once again, but this time because he was running a little too fast for comfort. He just knew her name, she had turned him down, and he was already picturing them in a nursery?

Either he had it bad, or he had gotten crazy.

"You know what? Call all my clients, and tell them I'll not be available for few days. I think I'm going to meet my soon to be wife and woo her untill she'll not declare everlasting love to me!"

Without saying another word, nor saying goodbye to his friend, he strolled away, a bit like Chaplin in some old mute, black and white movie.

He definitely was crazy, if he prefered a woman who didn't want to have anything to have with him, over a lot of money. Definitely crazy. Crazily, stupidly, in love. And... well, crazy Rick wasn't good for the business. Not at all.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, why don't you think it over, Rick?" Jane stopped dead, and, slightly amused by the note of rising panic and sheer fear in his old friend's voice- if there was someone who loved his money it was dear old Lars, maybe even more than the fake psych himself, even if Lars was more about putting aside and invest instead of buying.

Jane waited for Lars to catch up with him, doing what he was best at, pretending to be all innocent and oblivious to his own shemes. But making fun of his friend was just, well, too funny, so he smiled of that cat got the canary look, and he knew his friend knew he was well aware of what he was doing. And maybe, just maybe, of the damn consequences too.

His grin also suggested he just didn't give a damn about them too.

"Rick, please, you just can't stop living your life - and do as your clients pay you for doing- because you've suddenly decided you just need to have that shiny new toy you've been told you'll never, ever have!"

"Really Lars, I'm wounded that you are making this all about me and my broken pride" he paused, faking and failing at pretending to be all innocent, as Lars' look suggested all too well. "Ok, it's true, it's a tiny bit about my broken pride. BUT it's mostly about her. That woman, Teresa, she is something. I think she could be the one to force me to change. I mean, I ended up doing for a living the very thing I swore I would have never done. And why? Because I needed to support a needy family. But I know that... God Lars, she is so fiery and feisty, I think I could get lost in those green eyes of hers. I think I could try to be a better man for a woman like her."

Lars grunted, not sure if he was supposed to be disgusted or scared or just plain surprised. That wasn't how Rick usually behaved. Rick could be a charming prince or a perverted pig when it was about women, but never a dreamy teeanger at his first love.

And besides, Rick had never believed in love at first sight. He always had to think things through. There was just no bloody way he had fallen in love with that lady cop in few minutes' times. Nope, not at all. It didn't matter that in that picture at an event she was just the most charming, tempting, captivating, hot creature he had ever seen wearing a little black dress.

"You weren't joking. You really want me to postpone your appointments." Yes, that was scary. Because as much as Rick hated his job, well, he loved the money more. Even if the agent supposed it was more about hating the lack of it ( a sad memory from their shared childhood), than having trains and trains of dollars everywhere in the world.

Jane just noddd, and with a satisfied grin, he left the building, directed to his blue robin eggshell car, a vintage Citroen DS, one of the few things Angela left him after the divorce.

He just hoped that, wherever it was, the CBI building was well indicated, because he really didn't have any idea about how to make a navi system work, and he really needed to get there. As fast as possible.

His future was waiting for him.


	3. Unforgettable eyes

**Title:Another world**  
**Author:**Little_firestar84  
**Rating:** T (to be on the safe side)  
**Characters: **Patrick Jane, Teresa Lisbon  
**Summary:** They call it the butterfly effect. Just one small, random adjustment, and all changes. And here there is, another world. A world where his daughter has never been, his late wife is an ex and he is still a psych. And yet, few things just can't change. Some things are written in the stars, just like love at first sight.  
**Disclaimer:** Uhm. well, my father is called Bruno, but since it's Negro and not Heller, I'd say tha t I don't own the rights to the Mentalist.  
**Notes:** Extented version of "In this life", published around mid-September.

Teresa L Jane, Ayako-chan, letmewalktheeartwithyou, 666bloodyhell666: thnaks a lot. House Ever: I know. but after all, this isn't the same Pateick Jane we all get to love, so...well, I think that Rick is a good nickname for someoen called Patrick! And besides, poetical license!

AND: either you give me as many reviews as with last chapter (at least) or I'll be a very bad girl and I'll not update... and you want to know how it will end, right?

* * *

3/8

3

It had taken him longer than he cared to admit, even longer than he cared to think, to find that damn building, and now, all Jane could think about was that he looked like an idiot. Because there was no other definition for a man standing in the hall of a government agency, with a huge brunch of red roses (48. They were sold in 12, and he didn't want to look cheap) checking every face coming out of that damn elevator.

He didn't even know for sure if she was actually working in that moment, or how late she was going to stay, or... what if the news was old news? She had closed the greatest case the CBI ever had, a killer who had murdered over 20 people in half the years, and she had been the one finding the evidence, following every lead and breaking, at last, a runaway teenager by the name of Lorelai Martins. The girl, he remembered reading, had befriended the son of the late senior agent Sam Bosco, Teresa's predecessor, and once gotten access to the property, she had murdered the whole family in her master's name, in the same moment a woman called Rebecca something, Bosco's assistant, killed part of his team to slow down the investigation.

Teresa Lisbon had shown the world her true colors, he was quite sure of that, and maybe...she had made a name for herself, after all. Maybe she had moved up into the ranks. Maybe the show was her way to say goodbye to her friend.

Oh, lord, he didn't want to think about that. He just couldn't. Teresa had to still be there. She just... he couldn't contemplate another outcome, and he didn't have time.

He wanted her. He needed her. He felt like... like he had never felt in his whole life. He had never believed in love at first sight, and yet, here he was. It wasn't like he was going to walk on her, jump her and asking for her hand in marriage. Nope. He was going to seduce her, and then he would let her think he had gradually fallen for her, and was now ready to move on with his life in the form of matching rings.

Well, now that he thought about it... just thinking about it made it scary. Lars was right. He had it bad. So bad they couldn't even imagine how bad it actually was.

Oh well, it really didn't matter. It wasn't like she was going to discover it. He was going to woo her, he was going to seduce her, he would woo her a little bit more, and then he would propose. Nothing over the top, too fancy or public. He would probably just drop a "I think we should get married" while they were watching TV on her couch, one late evening, few months into their frequentation. It had to be after a boring day at the office, and not after an hard case, because he didn't want for her to think he was pitying her or was just trying to make it all better. She would look at him like asking for confirmation, he would smile his killer smile, and she would answer in the form of kisses, tears and the sweetest love making they could have ever had. If they were lucky, she was going to get pregnant with their firstborn that very night- or shortly after, anyway.

Yep. He was going to enjoy convincing her they were meant together, made for each other, the two half of the same apple.

Making love to her was going to be the best experience of his life. He just knew it. It was going to beat even his first million. A million he would be treasuring, like all the ones that had followed (and that Angela didn't get with the divorce and her lies) . It wasn't like he could still work as a fake psych after getting together with Teresa. Maybe he could have tried being a staying at home daddy. Of course, he needed to be a daddy first, but with Teresa's help...

"Ehy, Blondie, you got lost?" an older man approached him, well-built and with a dark blue uniform, almost black. A metal Pin on his shirt said that his surname was Ron, while his whole demeanor screamed rookie with the need to impress and make a name for himself.

Also, it was just his luck. Maybe this Ron guy knew if Teresa still worked there.

"Thank you very much, Ron, but I'm waiting for someone working here. A miss Teresa Lisbon?"

"Do you want a pass to go to see her? Cause I'm gonna tell you, good luck waiting for her. She would live here, given the chance. She works even more than assistant director Minelli himself." The man chuckled, looking at Jane like he would know what he meant, but all Jane did was "meh" him with a movement of his shoulders, like he knew that truth like his own hand. Actually, he didn't, but there was no need to alarm Ron of his stalker-ish tendencies or that the only time he had talked with Minelli (well, his agent had done it, but still) was to help with the Red John investigation, and that the man had turned him down under pressure by Teresa Lisbon herself.

"Think I'll wait for her over here, if it's not a problem. I want to surprise my love." he chuckled to Ron (who was looking at him like he had horns or two heads, like the chance of him being Lisbon's love - or that Lisbon had a love at all- would be equal to zero or even less.

He sat on the stairs, absently playing with the flowers (and ruining few of the roses. He was probably down at just 45, and his fingers were reddish, smelling like grass). There was a little smile on his lips as he thought about Lisbon. She intrigued him. She was... well, he didn't know how she was, but she seemed deep and intense, somehow peculiar. The fact that she was beautiful was just an added bonus. She was perfect-for him, at least. Feisty in life, every day, when he would be too lost in himself, too absorbed by his own persona and his virtues, and he bet feisty in bed. He wondered if she was messy, as it was said that messy women made the best lovers. Angela was ordinate and perfect, and the other women he had been with since, they all had been stories so short-lived he had never gotten to really know not even such an aspect of their personality.

An ecstatic shriek awoke him from his reverie made of naked, sweating bodies (his and Teresa) and, he hated to admit it, dirty diapers too, and he lifted his green-blue eyes to see Van Pelt slowly regaining control of herself, Lisbon at her side grunting something definitely not very lady-like between her teeth.

He so loved when she was annoyed with him. It was very... arousing.

"Hello Mr. Jane, we are so happy to see you! But, forgive me, what can we do for you? I don't think hearing you've been invited to the CBI..."

He didn't look at her, he was barely noticing that the redhead was there at all, nor he could see that she was looking with fascination and lust at the flowers, with a mixture of glee and pride. Like they could be for her. She was his usual type, after all, he could understand her reasoning, but pretty in the common sense of the word, vain and lightheaded wasn't what he needed any longer.

What he needed were those flames in her eyes, he needed being burned down by her just to be reborn in her arms, in her lover's embrace.

"Aren't you going to say hi, Teresa?" he asked, getting so close she could feel his breath on her lips. He could see her fury at the idea that he had asked around about her, that he had investigated her persona.

If she didn't keep that fire at bay, he was going to do something utterly stupid. Like jumping her in the hall of the damn CBI and kiss her senseless.

"No, I think I'll go straight to the point. What do you want, Mr. Jane?"

"You can call me Patrick, Teresa. I am, after all, calling you with your name."

"Well, in that case, you can call me AGENT LISBON, Mr. Jane." she paused, grinning like she had just proved her point (whatever it was) and stared in his eyes. Blushing. "I'll say it again, Mr. Jane. What do you want?"

_Being naked in your bed, while you, as bare as me, move on top of me while we lazily make love every Sunday afternoon. We could be more wild the other days of the week, if you want. Personally, I don't mind vanilla, but I know how to appreciate spicy every now and then too . H_e thought, but he didn't dare to say it at loud, despite the fact that the blush seemed to indicate she agreed with him. He kind of valued his own life, and his male attributes too. "Flowers, for you." he said, gallantly offering her the red roses.

She looked at them, quizzically. "Well, those flowers are indeed beautiful, Mr. Jane, but, as much as I hate repeating myself, what do you want? Or better yet: what do you need?"

"Well, I was kind of hoping that the flowers would convince you to give me a chance. So I'll ask again, and trust me, I never, ever, repeat myself: would you like to have dinner with me?"

She shook her head, and laughed-she actually laughed of an honest to God laughter. It was one of the most beautiful sound he had ever heard in his whole life. It filled his heart, gave him hope. And besides, she was radiant when she laughed that way, happy.

If she was that marvelous when she was "normal", he couldn't wait to see her in the heat of passion, or the next morning. Or even better: with her womb filled with life, pregnant with his child.

Ok, he had it bad, he admitted it. But it wasn't his fault. She was just so damn perfect for him, desirable and irresistible, temptation made flesh. And he wasn't even talking about sex. He was thinking about settling down. And everybody knew that Patrick Jane wasn't the kind of man to settle down.

"You know, seducing a woman over a meal and offering her red roses are things a school boy would do. I thought that the mighty Jane would have thought of something more... special, and a little less sophomoric." She smiled, and once again she blushed, probably not even noticing it this time. And every time she blushed, he could hope that there was at least a tiny part of her that wanted him as much as he wanted her, or that was at least a bit interested.

"Well, you know, sometimes a classic is all you need to state your point." he answered, smug, offering her once again the flowers, so close that she could clearly smell his aftershave- Davidoff, she guessed, giving up for just a second, closing her eyes and breathing in the man. She knew the essence- she used Cool Water for woman, and had tried to give Tommy the male version, hoping to convince him to give up the beard, now that he was the father of a toddler (recently turned 5). "So, what do you say, Teresa?" she shivered when he said her name. It was husky and erotic, rolling on his tongue like it was an exotic word. She started to understand what people meant when they talked about dirty talking and touch-less orgasms. That man, that... bastard, had to be a master at that.

But then again...

He was sexy and charming, and had that dangerous vibe about him (one of the qualities she kind of liked in men) but she wasn't in her twenties any longer, and even the youngest of her brothers, Tommy, was married with a child (actually, he was in the process of getting a divorce and sole custody of Annabeth, but still...). It wasn't like she could keep fooling around. One night stands and meaningless relationships where sex was all it mattered couldn't be her cup of tea any longer. And besides, he wasn't just dangerous. He was a criminal. And she didn't do criminals. Not even in bed. Especially in bed.

She took the flowers from his hands, and breathed in their scent. Strong, too strong, heavy and heady. And even the color, the deep scarlet, it was almost... vulgar. It was like that man was screaming that he just wanted to fuck her and then goodbye. "They are very beautiful, Mr. Jane, but I told you, they are a cliché', and I don't do them." she changed her tone, from flirty to un-forbearing in the blink of an eye, and slapped him hard, with the bouquet, again and again like she was a child. "like I don't do criminals and con artists. Goodbye Mr. Jane. Just know that if I'll never see your face again I'll not mind."

She walked away, and he grinned, staring at her derriere and massaging his injured face, while poor Grace was on the verge of tears. Or maybe was close to have an outburst, he wasn't sure. Nor he cared. She wasn't his feisty brunette, after all.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Jane. My boss is a... she doesn't know you, doesn't know what you do for all that poor people out there...I'm sure that when she'll get to know you better..."

"Trust me, honey, she knows me, she knows me better than I know myself." He murmured. Grace looked at him quizzically, and he didn't even ask her if it was because she had heard the words but didn't understand their meaning, or because she hadn't heard what he had said at all.

He definitely needed that woman in his life. And, one way or another, he was going to get her.

No matter what.


	4. No Way Out

**Title:Another world**  
**Author:**Little_firestar84  
**Rating:** T (to be on the safe side)  
**Characters: **Patrick Jane, Teresa Lisbon  
**Summary:** They call it the butterfly effect. Just one small, random adjustment, and all changes. And here there is, another world. A world where his daughter has never been, his late wife is an ex and he is still a psych. And yet, few things just can't change. Some things are written in the stars, just like love at first sight.  
**Disclaimer:** Uhm. well, my father is called Bruno, but since it's Negro and not Heller, I'd say tha t I don't own the rights to the Mentalist.  
**Notes:** Extented version of "In this life", published around mid-September.

thanks to Guest (whoever you are), MNoonserenity089, Sorchauna, Aania71, House Ever, 666bloodyhell666, Teresa L Jane, and Irisun: your kind words and encouragement provided the nevessary energy for this chapter. and also: Reig, the "Rick" reference wasn't for Castle, I just wanted a different nickname for Jane. I thought that, a childhood friend, wouldn't call his with his full name pr with his surname, and Rick was the nearest thing. BUT the othere things you found? Yes, from Castle, who "appears" in my Mentalist story, What Castle wrote...

So, you'll be goo, and you got a brand new chapter BUT either you give me as many reviews as with last chapter (at least) or I'll be a very bad girl and I'll not update... and you want to know how it will end, right?

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4/8

Minelli had asked her to join him in his office as soon as she had arrived, and, Lisbon had to admit, the thing quite worried her.

It wasn't like she and her boss didn't talk, because they did- maybe even too much, she was after all, like he often said, the closest thing he had to family, he wasn't only her mentor, he was a surrogate father figure of sort too - but she knew Virgil Minelli better than she did herself. She knew when there was a trouble. And his tone, it was screaming all bad things about troubles.

She wondered, as she politely said hello to Henrietta, Virgil's assistant, what it was all about. Was it about the Lane investigation? She knew that rules told she was supposed to deem it a cold case, but she didn't have the necessary strength to send it to the vault. Doing so would be admitting that her mother's murderer was living happily ever after, and she couldn't do it. Not if she wanted to keep being Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon. She wasn't going to become some sort of Punisher, a modern-day, female Lone Ranger.

She sat outside her superior and mentor's office, waiting for the "hail hitcher" to join him, and, out of boredom, and also because of her training, she looked with the corner of her eyes at Henrietta: she was acting more weirdly than usual.

"Etta" was probably just few years younger than Virgil Minelli himself, and, as far as Lisbon knew, she had always been so much in (unrequired) love with him that she had never left his side, despite the many occasions of brand new, flashy positions and carrier making spots (and romance). She had always said no, to both new jobs and other men lusting after her, a beautiful woman 20 or so years prior when she had first joined Minelli, and she had never regretted her decision, even if she knew that her love was unrequired, even if he had always been oblivious to her feelings, and had gotten married twice in the years in between.

Today, though, the "plain Jane" Etta was acting in a strange way. She seemed rather flirty, like she was trying to impress someone, to look younger and less average. AND she had never done so with Virgil. Many years prior (and now again), he had been a married man, and as much as she was in love with him, she couldn't fathom the idea of breaking a marriage, ruining a family.

Lisbon was almost asking her what the hell was wrong with her, when Virgil himself opened the door to let her in.

A look alone told her that there was indeed something wrong with him, even if she wasn't so sure any longer it was about a case. He looked sorry and apologetic, kind of like a baby who tried to tell his mother that it was his imaginary friend who broke the cookie jar. This knowledge wasn't helping, though. She knew that when Minelli was troubled... the troubles were indeed big. Enormous.

She took a step inside the pristine room, not talking. She knew there was no real need to, he knew her well enough to understand what her look might mean. Some sort of, what the heck, boss?

"Lisbon, I want you to know that I didn't do it. The higher-ups took this decision for me, presenting us just the outcome without any chance of replying."

Yes, he really looked like Tommy after he had broken the cookie Jar.

"Sir, I don't understand..."

He closed his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose. She was almost positive that he would start talking nonstop like a kid. But he didn't. He preferred being simply blunt, take off the heavy weight on his shoulders and chest. "Director Bertram assigned a consultant to your unit. Apparently, the guy is a genius, got a record closed case rate to every unit in the state he worked with, and now he has offered his services to the CBI, almost for free. But he has asked for you and you alone. He'll work with no one else, and Bertram thinks we can't give up this kind of publicity. Not after so many of our own have been arrested as moles of Red John."

She almost groaned in frustration. That was Bertram for them, all right. They barely had money for patrol cars, ammos and bulletproof vests, but given the chance of having good PR, he didn't know what saving money could mean. Why bother saving the lives of good agents and citizens of California, when he could look so good in one of his tailored suits?

He was definitely the kind of man who had married his way to the top. As in, getting married to a State Senator's daughter.

She took a big breath. Resigned. She already knew there was no war to fight, not when the director was concerned. "Well, I just hope I'll be able to handle this new consultant of us. You said he, right? Well, at least it's not some kind of dumb bimbo he met at some event, or a cocktail waitress he slept with during one of his travels to Vegas..."

"I don't know, Teresa. I'm aware I'm not a cocktail waitress from Vegas, but am I a dumb bimbo? I think you should tell me. You said something about knowing me oh so well, after all. I think, just a couple of days ago."

She was dead. She felt dead. Still motionless, without daring to take another step, she slowly turned, and here he was, sitting on the old, but comfy, brown couch in the corner.

The jerk was smiling again of his cat got the canary grin. Only, this time with reason.

"Mr. Jane" she hissed between clenched teeth.

" Oh, Teresa, I told you. You can call me Patrick. Or Rick, if you prefer. I don't mind, all my friends do."

"And I remember, Mr. Jane, telling you to call me Agent Lisbon. And that if I were to never see you face again, I wouldn't have minded."

"Yeah, well, you told me so just once, the first evening I got you flowers. I think you've become quite fond of me in the last couple of weeks, though." He was so smug and arrogant, she couldn't stand him. She... yes, he was sexy and hot and charming, but he was also a manipulative lying bastard. And that, she definitely didn't like.

"Mr. Jane, listen to me clearly: I am sick and tired of this game of yours, whatever it is. You think it's funny? I'll see who will laugh when you'll be denounced for stalking, and I'll have obtained..."

"A restrain order with our names on it? I know Teresa, you explained this to me just yesterday evening, when you slapped me in the face with the 14th bouquet of flowers. But let me ask you something: are you sure that the director will be very happy to know that the same consultant he hired can't work, because a fellow coworker denounced him for stalking and got a restrain order? I imagine that Gale wouldn't approve of your behavior, not when the two of you have as many issues as you do. He doesn't like people who don't think about his political connections, the repercussions of involving rich and powerful individuals in investigations, nor women who don't fall naked at his feet, for what it matters. I gather you are part of all 3 groups, right?"

She grunted, in a very not so lady-like manner, but he couldn't stop grinning, because here they were, those flames who kept him awake at night, that doomed him as her humble servant as soon as their eyes met over two weeks before. He couldn't believe she hadn't understood he was lost and hers as soon as she had looked into his eyes. If she had asked him to behave like a normal person, to woo her like any other man would have, he would have done as she asked.

"The only good thing coming from this... whatever it is to you, Mr. Jane, is that I'll get to denounce you for sexual harassment instead of stalking!"

She blushed as she said sexual. It didn't matter that she had said it with a negative connotation , it seemed that her brain could only register the first 3 letters, sex. All she could think about, all she saw with her mind's eye, it was the two of them, naked and tangled, sweaty and satisfied as he kept pleasuring her even after the fact with every part of his gorgeous body.

And she didn't even like him. (That much. Well, she had never been that idiot, or blind, for what it mattered, to deny that he was sexy.)

He immediately got her thought, more than satisfied that she, at least, lusted after him. He looked at her like she was just a child who was trying to get the upper hand in something. He shook his head, clearly amused by the whole situation, tsk-ing her again and again, like he knew everything about her and her world. Just because he had found out on Google that her name was Teresa it didn't mean he knew her. Not at all. If he did, he would have stopped harassing her day one, he would have never showed up at her work's doorstep for two weeks, with a different kind of flowers every night. Getting every night the same answer.

"If you didn't want me, you'd never deny the attraction so much, Teresa. According to my personal experience, it's always who despises that, at the end, is the most valuable and happy buyer" he said, with amusement very clear in his voice. She didn't need to look at him to know that he was showing off a huge grin.

She suddenly felt his hot breath on her skin, she felt he was so close that she could have sworn that she had felt the softest touch of lips on the tender skin of her neck. When did he get so close? She didn't know. She was normally quite good at picking up details, due to her line of work and her chosen career, but apparently she wasn't so good at paying attention in this particular circumstance. Not, apparently, when the Mighty Jane was involved.

"You are up to something, Mr. Jane" she hissed his name with disgust, tempted to hit him there and then, the hell with consequences, with what the director would have done to her. "I know the ones like you. You are all about the long con. And I know this is just another act for you. What do you really want, Mr. Jane? Are you here because you are bored and you just want to have fun, or are you after a case? Are you trying to hide that you are involved in some investigation?"

He tsk-ed her again, again shaking his head like he was a disappointed parent or teacher, and yet again she felt rage rising in her. She remembered being a teenager, smaller than the other girls her age. People called her girly-girl, cute, they liked to mess with her hair, to suggest her to wear silly dresses, to try make-up. They believed her to be delicate, fragile, innocent, silly, naive and stupid, all because she was petite. She could see that Patrick Jane thought the same thing about her. Here he was, yet another person - another man - who underestimated her because she was petite, because she was a woman in a work line filled with big bad men. This was reason enough to hate him, she thought. Of course, many, many times, angry sex was the best sex ever, but she wasn't going to think about it. Not when the other party involved was Patrick "Con Artist" Jane.

"I told you, Teresa, all I want is a chance with you." he told her, sweet and yet luscious and erotic. It wasn't fair. No man should have been able to awake desire in women in such a way. Not when he was such a bastard. But then again, when a sexy and hot man had ever been Straight, respectable and honest too?

"I know you are lying, and I'll eventually prove it. You can't want me. Grace is a fan of yours, she reads all the magazines that talk about you. I've seen your type. Tall blondes, fake breasts, silly behavior, short to none dresses, all bimbos. You'd be too scared of a real woman to get so close to me, and trust me, I'm as real as they get."

He got so close, she thought he was going to kiss her, but he didn't. Instead, he whispered in her ear, leaving a trail of goose bumps on her whole body. "I don't know why you are so determined to not have not even a single dinner with me, Teresa, but I can assure you, one day you'll say yes." He smiled at her, and nodded in direction of Virgil as he left the office.

He was going to keep asking her out, every day if it was necessary. But he was going to get her. Because of his broken pride, to prove her wrong on all fronts, and because he wanted her.

He needed her, actually. Teresa, and those marvelous flames that made him remember how it felt to actually be alive. They... thrilled him. It was like when he had first started playing the role of the fake psych. The chasing and the fight had made him who he was, but he had never had any satisfaction, if not in the form of money. The thrill had been short-lived, soon replaced by boredom. Every show was the same show, after all. With her, though, he knew that it would be ever-lasting, that every day he would discover something new.

With her, he could finally be the better man, he could change his ways for her. Because, deep down, he knew that those eyes were the ones of his one and only.


	5. Soothing and Inspiring Presence

**Title:Another world**  
**Author:**Little_firestar84  
**Rating:** T (to be on the safe side)  
**Characters: **Patrick Jane, Teresa Lisbon  
**Summary:** They call it the butterfly effect. Just one small, random adjustment, and all changes. And here there is, another world. A world where his daughter has never been, his late wife is an ex and he is still a psych. And yet, few things just can't change. Some things are written in the stars, just like love at first sight.  
**Disclaimer:** Uhm. well, my father is called Bruno, but since it's Negro and not Heller, I'd say tha t I don't own the rights to the Mentalist.  
**Notes:** Extented version of "In this life", published around mid-September.

Sorry, sorry, sorry for the delay! Guess that life and work are taking a lot of my time!

anyway, thanks to: **Totorsg, wantingmore, kaoh** (well, I admit I loved writing the office part. That secretary was just, it was so funny writing her character in!), **flowerfaires, teresa l jane and 666bloodyhell666 **for reviewing last chapter, and if I forgot someone who left a review for older chapters...so, so sorry, know that you are always in my mind!

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5/8

Working with Jane wasn't that bad, but it didn't mean she particularly liked it too.

He had his moments, she couldn't help but agree with it, but she still had a lingered doubt he was after something. And that something just couldn't be only her. No billionaire with his own show on national television would just give up celebrity to... well, for the possibility of dating her, of all women. Dating, and not even really that... all he asked was just one dinner, and she was almost tempted to just give up and say yes just to see what he would do afterward.

"I think you should stop thinking so hard, Lisbon. You are giving me an headache." She lifted her eyes from the ever-present paperwork, somehow at least 3 times what it used to be before he joined her unit- and stared quizzically at him, faking sleep on her couch. In her office. On a white leather couch he brought for "them".

The door was closed, the blinds too, and she knew what people said. It wasn't like she didn't hear gossip. And besides, Van Pelt knew everything there was to know (and even more).

Jane flirted with her. Jane asked of her and her only. She was the only one with a small ability of handling Jane. Jane was always around her, especially in her office when the blinds were closed. Ergo: they were lovers.

And she even kept saying him no...

"Out of curiosity, Jane, are you actually planning on doing some actual work?" she asked with a voice that was betraying no sign of emotion, if not the raising anger and frustration toward that man.

"Meh, I prefer staying here with you, Lisbon, if you don't mind. I find your presence very soothing and inspiring."

"And can't my presence inspire you to do some work? I think there are few tons of forms you are supposed to fill..." Actually, they were forms he had been supposed to fill weeks, if not months, before, but he just kept meh-ing her. She was supposed to know that if she wanted his paperwork done, she was supposed to do it herself. And besides, there were better things to do to occupy his time than hurting his poor, fragile hands (and she had even thought he had worked before in his life...).

Like staring at her and indulge in her company. Maybe they weren't into a relationship yet, hell, they weren't even dating, but they were working on it, in that direction.

Well, at least, he was.

She had stopped calling him "Mister", even if she hadn't dropped Jane to shift to Patrick yet, but it was kind of ok. First, she called everyone by surname, her mentor, Minelli, included, second... as much as a turn off as it had always been being called "Jane" by a woman, especially in bed, in the heat of passion, said by her... it sounded kind of erotic, if it was even possible. He even doubted that being called Patrick would feel the same.

Everything, though, said by Lisbon seemed erotic. That voice of hers was luscious, deep, husky, and her accent... if paradise did exist, he had earned a spot there for the simple fact that he hadn't jumped her yet.

"I think I'll stay here a little bit longer. By the way, out of curiosity, would you mind having dinner with me? I was thinking we could take my cabrio, drive to the cost and have dinner somewhere on the sea. Or maybe we could go to Napa Valley. I know a place with a terrace to die for. It could be very romantic."

"What are you, 19? You need to bring the ladies to fancy restaurants to bed them?" She grunted with sarcasm.

"I wasn't thinking of seducing you over a meal. Scout's honor."

"First, there is nothing in your file about you being a scout, so your word is valueless. Second, seriously? Isn't everything you've done so far a pathetic attempt at seducing me?"

He'd like to tell her no, but it wasn't like he actually could. What was he supposed to say, that he didn't want her body but her soul, that he wanted a life with her? He couldn't, not yet. Teresa Lisbon was a modern woman, after all. To get her, he would have to seduce her first.

Oh well, it wasn't like it was the end of the world. He could definitely survive sex with that woman.

"I don't understand why you can't give me at last a chance." he said, a voice so low she wasn't even sure he was actually talking with her. She stood still, voiceless. She didn't know what to say, didn't know how to answer him.

She didn't know the answer. She didn't have it herself.

Jane had been charming since he had joined them, but with her, she could see he had tried, was trying to turn it off. He had lied, misled and manipulated, but she knew he was trying to change, was trying to be honest. At least with her.

Any other woman would have been flattered. She was just confused. He was a consumed liar, so, where did the lie end and honesty begin? She could never say with him, the lines were too blurry, too undefined. But he was sexy and hot and charming. God helped her, he was. And she wasn't strictly immune to him as much as she tried to show the opposite. Still, though, she feared she couldn't trust him with her heart, that he would let her down like everyone else had done in her whole life before.

"Well, first, you aren't my kind of man..."

"I'm dark, tall, handsome and dangerous enough to be your type. If it's just because I'm blonde instead of dark haired, I'll get a tide job!"

She stared at him like he had just said the greatest idiocy the world had ever heard. Which it was kind of true. Besides, it wasn't like he wasn't her type just because he was blonde. She wasn't so venial. She was a woman, after all, and not a man.

"Second, dating within the unit isn't allowed according to regulations..."

"Technically, dating within the units isn't allowed to AGENTS. My contract states that I'm a freelance consulting civilian, paid just for the cases I choose to consult on, whenever I see fit. We have some ample maneuver room there, if this is your problem."

She didn't know if she was supposed to be flattered, scared or what. Patrick Jane hated burocracy, and yet he had red (and memorized) the rule book for her? Wow.

"Then, why don't you start deciding to consult on the River case? Cho's having some troubles, and that billionaire isn't being of help. Maybe you could shed some light on this for us."

"Billionaires are boring, Lisbon, especially if men. And this one just wants to bed you through me. So, no, I don't think I will help you out. Unless..." he paused, and got closer and closer. She hated when he did that, when she could feel his breath on her skin. It was too unnerving, too erotic, and she knew every time he did so, there was a chance she would finally lose it and kiss him and undress him, just to have her wicked ways with him on the spot, once and for all. "Unless you'll agree on dinner with me if I discover who did it."

"JANE!" she blushed, scandalized.

"What? C'mon woman, it's not like I asked you to marry me or have sex in case of victory. It's just one single dinner. Nothing more, nothing less."

She took a big breath, exasperated. She knew Jane. Now that they've breached the subject, he wasn't going to give up that easily. Sometimes, he was obsessive, he was like a dog with a bone. It was flattering at times, being the sole object of attention of such a handsome man, but he tended to be a bit possessive. She didn't know how he did it, but every time she was out on a date, he just knew it, and either he started calling her nonstop, or he would fabricate a case (imaginary, of course) just to ruin things for her. And she didn't even want to think about the times he had showed up at the chosen restaurant just to annoy her and convince the guy he was her boyfriend.

Oh well. They were into deep water with this one. It wasn't like he could actually solve it. If it would bring her few hours of peace, so be it.

"Ok, you know what? Solve this case and I'll have dinner with you."

He grinned, satisfied and proud, and went to leave, just to stop at the door and turn towards her one last time. "Lisbon? You know it's been his brother in law to do it, right? Dylan's never died, he just faked it, and Brendon had discovered that his lovely wife had helped out her brother in this little scheme." she looked astonished at him, she couldn't say a word. What the... "Brendon had been a naughty boy when he was younger, so he and Mary faked his death, and Tony Bertoli, yes, I'm talking about the surgeon who's rumored to be in with the Mafia- did a little number on him. So, Bye, bye Dylan, welcome uncle Joseph. Brendon discovered it, or at least, he discovered something- I think incest - and they had to kill him. I'll have a confession for six pm, be ready for that time. You can do the paperwork tomorrow. Do you want me to ask Grace to bring you something? I wouldn't want for you to waste time going home and then back here.. it could even be dangerous. I think, the less time you spent inside a car, the safer it is.."

She didn't say a single thing, but at half past five, Grace was there with dresses (taken from vice, from the look of them. Very, very short, very transparent, showing a lot of skin in the breast area) and ready to do hair and make-up.

When Jane arrived, she hadn't done hair or make-up, but she had changed just one item of clothing. She was wearing her bright green shirt, the one he had told her once before that it complimented her eyes and made them much more brilliant.


	6. Dinner with the psych consultant

**Title:Another world**  
**Author:**Little_firestar84  
**Rating:** T (to be on the safe side)  
**Characters: **Patrick Jane, Teresa Lisbon  
**Summary:** They call it the butterfly effect. Just one small, random adjustment, and all changes. And here there is, another world. A world where his daughter has never been, his late wife is an ex and he is still a psych. And yet, few things just can't change. Some things are written in the stars, just like love at first sight.  
**Disclaimer:** Uhm. well, my father is called Bruno, but since it's Negro and not Heller, I'd say tha t I don't own the rights to the Mentalist.  
**Notes:** Extented version of "In this life", published around mid-September.

Sorry, sorry, sorry for the delay! Guess that life and work are taking a lot of my time...but I promise, I'll try to update it a little quicker next time!

anyway, thanks to: **Guest, Ravenclaw (**btw, I love your name. Where do you take inspiration for it?),**nhaquyen, 666bloodyhell666** (smart, isn't it? yes, I loved it too...), **irisun, and everyone who vaforited me and the story.**

**And** now...

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6/8

6

When they walked through the doors of the restaurant, she was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't like she had expected. She had assumed that Patrick Jane would do everything over the top, bringing her in Napa valley or on the coast (like he had hinted), but this place... it was just perfect. Not a luxury restaurant, but not even a burger place or a Chinese take-away (she knew the last two all too well). It was a classy and yet simple place, small and intimate, it was the place where families could be found on a lazy Sunday having breakfast in the morning or dinner in the evening with their kids, and it was all enough for her to love it, to make her smile as memories of her happy childhood (just few years, but she still treasured them) filled her heart, bringing tears in her eyes.

Also, it was a place where she could go as she was dressed in that moment, a place where she fitted. She wondered if he had chosen it after he had seen her clothes or if it had been his plan all along. She couldn't place it completely past him, he was a natural born manipulator, after all. With Patrick Jane, you could never know.

"You all right?" he asked concerned, guiding her inside with an hand on the small of her back, something that, contrary to reason, made her shiver (and blush).

"This isn't the kind of place I usually picture you in" she told him, simply, bluntly, as the waitress showed them their table, close to a window from where she could see the landscape of Sacramento, the old town ready for the incoming festivities. It was only the beginning of November, and yet she could already see that everyone was getting ready for Christmas. She didn't know if it was a good thing or not.

"What? Because of that joke about the Lamborghini, Napa Valley or the coast? Nah, trust me Lisbon, this place is my usual cup of tea whenever I can." he paused and sat at that table, asking "Shirley" to bring Lisbon the menu. The girl blushed and immediately told Mr. Jane that she would be back soon, with her father's hellos too. Lisbon couldn't help but smile. She could say it hadn't been all a ruse- when you knew what you were supposed to look after, Jane's tells were quite obvious . He honestly loved that place, he was an usual costumer, and had decided to share his little haven with her.

Definitely flattering. Why the hell the man had to be so damn perfect? If he still planned of seducing her...well, he was close to make it.

"Shirley's grandfather was the original owner of this place. When I was a kid, whenever I was in town with the carnie, I would escape and play magic tricks for the costumers, and Raphael- it was his name, he had escaped from Cuba, you know - would pay me with what he said were leftovers. He said that he and Margie always cooked too much, but I knew that they did it only when I was around. Shirley's father is few years older than me, but he had always, well, at least he had always claimed to like me. I remember the time he wanted to date Lisa - his wife- but was too afraid to ask her out, so I made him jealous by pretending to want to date her. I got punched by him, and slapped by Angela. She thought I was cheating on her and she didn't appreciate it. And then, Lisa slapped me too, because she thought I was a cheating husband looking for easy sex. Not the best day of my life, but now they have a 14 years old girl who's just amazing and loves her surrogate uncle with a passion because he spoils her from the day she was born."

He finally stopped talking, and looked before his eyes, at Teresa, unusually quiet. "Sorry, too much information, right? I always tend to exaggerate and.."

"What? No, no, I mean, your life is quite interesting. It's just that, you mentioned a wife, and you... you don't wear a ring and kind of never said anything about her before."

He looked at her, confused, hurt, biting her lips, and one look told him immediately what was going through that contorted brain of hers. Great. Now she thought he was married, that he was hiding his marriage to have affairs and etcetera, etcetera, etcetera... She thought he was the big, bad wolf, exactly the kind of man she had pictured him to be when they had first met. The image he had worked so hard to erase was still there, and it drove him mad. He had worked so hard to get her trust, and still, in months he hadn't moved an inch in his little "getting to date and then marry Lisbon" project.

"Maybe my marriage lasted a bit longer than many celebrities wedding did, but, well, let's say I didn't get my happily ever after with Angela." He made- a bit on purpose- a face that could show exactly how he had felt back then, and a bit how he still did. People tended to believe that he liked random women and one night stands for the sake of it, but it was because they couldn't hurt him in the long run as Angela had.

She just said "oh" and he red it as what it meant. "Oh, look, someone went through an harsh divorce". It wasn't the first time people said that to him after discovering of his... debacle (many times, it was women who wanted to get in bed with him to erase all that suffering), and he had (almost) always hated it, the pity, but with Lisbon, it was different. She wasn't after anything, she said it because she meant it. And that was one the reasons why he loved her so much.

Yes, he had finally admitted it. It wasn't just a crush, nor was he after just those huge eyes of hers. He was in love with Teresa Lisbon.

"Yeah, well, Angela and I got married while I was... expanding my business, so to say, and we never had a pre-nup or anything else, and she really had a good lawyer. So she took the home and the friends, all properties, the boat -small, but I loved it nevertheless - and all the cars, with the exception of the Citroen that she hated. I practically had to start from zero, and yet, I'm the one paying alimony even if I actually have to rent the place I live in. And let me tell you something: my ex-wife isn't what you'd call low-maintenance."

"I guess it mustn't been easy, starting again from scratch. Trust me, I know a couple of things about it." she admitted en passant, like she didn't even know she was saying it. Strange but true: she felt at easy with him, in that place. Or maybe it was that she just felt at easy with him, point.

"Midwest?"

"I'm from Chicago. I moved here when I was 21."

"Someone didn't lose time when she turned legal, eh?" he joked. "I've been few times in Chicago myself when I was a teenager. Who knows, maybe we met across the street, in a crowded room, maybe we even noticed each other, and yet, we may never find out. Although, trust me Lisbon, I think I would remember such a nice brunette. Do you remember, was it Marylyn who told that men prefer blondes, but marry brunettes?"

"You know, one of these days you'll have to tell me why you are so obsessed over a relationship with me."

"C'mon Lisbon, how could I not love you? Everybody loves you. Even Rigsby, I think that he had had a huge crush on you when he first joined your team, few years back."

She didn't answer to him. She didn't know what to say. so, instead, she asked. "what do you suggest, as you are a regular here?" She changed drastically topic. Whatever it was his attraction for her, or Rigsby's, she didn't feel like talking about it.

"The chicken with rice and dry wine is a specialty. They also think it could be aphrodisiac: they say that almost all the couples that get it, 9 months later have a baby" he grinned, but not for too long. her death glare was menacing enough (although she was blushing, thinking about what it would mean doing a baby with him...).

Although the flames were back, burning for him alone, because of him. Oh, dear lord, he though, getting lost in her sight, how was he supposed to resist such a woman? One day he would have just jumped her on the spot.

"Well, then maybe I should try it. After all, It's not like I have to worry about having someone getting me pregnant..."she mumbled, blushing when he grinned, almost a full laugh, at her. Did she say it at loud? Apparently, she did. The man really consummated all her control. Damn.

"I am glad you like it here." he said, suddenly serious, almost shy. Though, that glint in his eyes was still there.

"It's beautiful here" she admitted, blushing. Suddenly, she couldn't stand his gaze any longer. It was too much. He was too much. And she wasn't ready yet.

"Angela hated it. She wanted for me to be always the one I was on the show. I don't blame her, we both didn't have a lot growing up, but I've always taken pleasure from the small things from life, instead of following empty glamour like she did. But I was young and in love, and what she asked me to do, I did it." he paused, looking not at her, and yet right before his eyes, but somehow lost, in the distance, prisoner of his own memory . "Sometimes, I think I lost myself."

"For what it matters, Jane, I think you are a good man" she told him sweetly, taking one of his hands in her own, interlacing their fingers, making him smile in awe at the sight.

"When we left, I didn't want to do it, but it was the only thing I could do, and we were so young. We had to live somehow. And then, I couldn't stop any longer, because I was no longer Patrick or Jane, but The Patrick Jane."

"Then...why now?" she asked, low voice.

"Angela's getting married to her lawyer, so I'll not have to pay alimony any longer. And I have a bit of money left, so... besides, I told you. I look for the finest, and yet simplest, things in life. I can finally stop pretending, and I can tell people the truth. But...I want to keep doing this. I like it. But I want to come clear. Trust me, if there is someone knowing this, it's me: there is no such a thing as psychs."

They kept talking, even if the topics were more trivial. The previous conversation had been just too heavy, had too many meanings for them to explore them in that fine evening. But they still enjoyed themselves nevertheless.

When they reached her home, they stood still in the car for a good amount of time, both not knowing what they were supposed to do .

At the end, she was the one breaking the silence, murmuring a "see you tomorrow" before leaving the car.

But Jane had been quicker. He took her for a wrist, and forced her, gently, back, and he kissed the corner of her lips. It was a slow peck, the most sensual thing she had ever experienced, her heart stopped and went on again like drums of war, like crazy.

She could see it was having the same effect on him.

When she was back home, she took a glimpse of her reflection, and it was unmistakable. She had never been that happy or radiant, not in a long time, at least.

But then again, she hadn't been in love in a long time.


	7. Ask and you'll be given

**Title:Another world**  
**Author:**Little_firestar84  
**Rating:** T (to be on the safe side)  
**Characters: **Patrick Jane, Teresa Lisbon  
**Summary:** They call it the butterfly effect. Just one small, random adjustment, and all changes. And here there is, another world. A world where his daughter has never been, his late wife is an ex and he is still a psych. And yet, few things just can't change. Some things are written in the stars, just like love at first sight.  
**Disclaimer:** Uhm. well, my father is called Bruno, but since it's Negro and not Heller, I'd say tha t I don't own the rights to the Mentalist.  
**Notes:** Extented version of "In this life", published around mid-September.

Thanks to:wantingmore,sorchauna, teresa l jane,bringerofjoy, 66bloodyhell666 **, and everyone who vaforited me and the story.**

**a/N: seen? I've been good! A new chapter already! keeps reviewing, and you'll get new chapters...(well, at least the finale)! **

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7/8

Their little game had gone on for far too long for his liking.

It wasn't like he wanted to give up, he was just losing his patience. It had been six months, and still Teresa barely talked with him about what it really mattered (aka, themselves, and her life before him).

Well, at least he knew they were kind of moving towards a certain direction.

Nothing had happened between them, nothing of the sexual kind, at least, and yet, everything had happened at the same time. They hadn't had sex, they hadn't even kissed properly (lingered pecks on her face were his favorite pastime), but still, their whole worlds had changed.

For starter, they touched, a lot. Nothing dirty, but all things very, very innocent, but that every time send shivers through his whole body. Simple things such an hand on the small of her back, or taking her wrist to check the time awoke in him sinful visions concerning the two of them. Every time, the visions got stronger and stronger, more and more realistic, and he felt like he would just lose his cool and take her there and then.

And then, they were spending more and more time together.

In 99% of the cases, they were partnered in the field. Lisbon said it was because she was the only one who could handle him, but he knew that, deep down (and not even that deep) she wanted his company. Said company meant that, if the fact they were sort of dating-not dating out of work meant something, it was that she liked staying with him.

It was yet another step in the direction of relationship/marriage/family (a boy, a girl, a dog and a cat and a white fence, pretty please with cherry on top).

There was only a problem: he was the only one doing the talking.

It wasn't because he was so self-centered he didn't gave her space. It was just that she just kept it quiet, always finding a way to avoid meaningful conversations.

At first, it had hurt, badly. He thought she was doing it because of him, that she didn't trust him, that she hadn't changed her mind about him, but it didn't took Jane too long to figure out the truth.

She wasn't keeping the truth at bay because of him, but because of herself.

It wasn't just a matter of treasuring her privacy. It was more a matter of not wanting to deal with it. Talking about the past would mean open old wounds, it would mean suffer and remember all the rage and hate she had felt for so long, and he knew she didn't want to feel that way. Lisbon considered herself to be Saint Teresa, savior of all things. and to be broken... she just couldn't accept it. Like she couldn't accept the pity she knew she would have received.

"Are you all right, Jane?" she asked, a bit unsure and shy, biting her own lips. She was close to pouting, and he didn't want to think about all the fantasies her pout awoke in him. No, he wanted to be mad with her. She deserved it, plenty.

"No, I'm fine. Do you want me to drop you somewhere? I could drive you home if you like." He kept driving, looking at the road right before his eyes, just few lights every now and there showing them the road ahead, guiding them. His tone was void, deadpan.

"You know Jane, you may not believe it, but I become a detective for a reason. So don't play dumb with me and tell me what's wrong."

He almost grinned, for he could feel in her voice those flames that kept him awake all night long, flames that had doomed his very existence right from the start. "Is it something that I did?" she asked, a bit tentatively, a bit sweeter, her voice low and broken, even scared. Scared of losing him before they could become something more, before it could actually begin? He didn't know. It wasn't like he was a strong man. He was small, and scared.

Her words, though... she was dooming him, she had hurt him, and she didn't know it, she didn't have any idea. It wasn't fair. He stopped the car abruptly, and then turned the engine off, staring at her with hands on the wheel, knuckles white. "What you did? You ask me what you did? Why don't you try the other way around, Teresa? Why don't you ask me what you didn't do?"

"What I... sorry, but when did it become my fault? You're the one moody here, Jane, not me!" she hissed, hitting him on the shoulder. Quite strongly. He even...well, he stopped a second to do everything- he was almost positive that his heart wasn't beating, his breathing dead in his throat - because the only part of his body working was his brain. To be more accurate: that part of his brain conjuring images of feisty Lisbon in bed. Naked.

"Ah! Glad you come to your senses and decided that it's not my fault! You can ask me to forgive you, now, and say that you're sorry." oh, her smug arrogance as she recollected herself. She seemed one of those old divas, like Ava Gardner.

"I wasn't thinking that. Trust me, I still think it's your fault."

"Oh really? You know what I think? You're too proud to admit that I am right and you are writing! That's why you don't want to tell me what you were thinking about."

"Trust me, you don't want to know what I was thinking" he mumbled, just to change topic as he saw she was listening in. 'I was saying that it's your fault because you don't open up with me."

"What? I do open up with you! You know of Greg, of Annabeth and Tommy..."

"Oh, please the only reason I know those things it's because we met both Greg and Tommy on a case! And it's Annie!"

She didn't reply. It wasn't like he was wrong. It was true that she had never shared a lot with him, but, at the same time, she had never hidden anything. All he had to do was ask, and she would have answered in kind. The fact that he didn't know it, that he didn't understand how she worked, him, the mighty Patrick Jane, fake psych, mentalist, it didn't simply unnerved her. It drove her crazy. She saw red, with rage. She felt... She felt like she could say anything in that moment, and she already knew that she would have eventually regretted every word.

"Well, you know what? It's not like you share plenty with me! There is still a lot that I don't know about you!"

His knuckles turned white. He almost told her that it was what a relationship was about- everyday, everlasting discovery- but he kept it quiet. First, they weren't into a relationship, and sometimes, he wasn't so sure there was any working chance for them. Second, she knew what it mattered, and because he had told her. Without that she had to ask. "You know plenty about me. I always talk about me. I share" He underlined the last word. He almost hissed it.

He didn't know how the atmosphere had changed so much. Couple of hours before, they were having dinner and enjoying themselves. He was almost positive that he would have ended the evening with a kiss of the French kind.

And now, this...

"Right. I know that you were married and that you've been a fake psych almost your whole life. That's what I know."

He clenched his teeth. It wasn't true, but they just wanted to hurt each other, the both of them. After all, she knew of the carnie, she knew that he had escaped, married young, that he had been really in love with Angela, but that he had understood that it wasn't worth it in the end.

And mostly, she was supposed to know that he cared. That he thought he had fallen for her, hard.

"You want to know something? Ok, let's see if this is good enough. My mother escaped with my father when she was 16, and married him shortly after, when she was already pregnant with me. She went back home when I wasn't even 2, begging her parents to take her back, and when they asked her to let it go of me to be brought back to the family, she accepted. I escaped with Angela when I was 18, and until that day, daddy dearest kept saying that I should have begged for mercy, kneed before him because it was all my fault my mother had left." he hissed every word, almost shouting. All she could do was making herself as little as possible, a scared, pained bundle with teary eyes against the door. "I hope you'll be happy now. Now you know everything there is to know about me and my sorry excuse of a life"

They didn't say another word for the rest of the trip, they didn't even dare to steal glances at each other. But when they finally reached her home, once the car stopped, she didn't left. She stood inside, motionless, rigid. It looked like what people referred to, he assumed, as the quiet before the storm.

They didn't utter a word, they didn't move. They were motionless, and surrounded by silence, like they were the last humans on earth.

"My dad turned to alcohol" she simply said, looking in front of her, at the houses she knew so well. It was few years that she was living there. She knew them. But they didn't know her. Not like he did.

Jane was right.

"He had never been strong, but he had always had someone to rely on. His family, mum... and besides, I don't think he even considered the chance of actually outliving her. He was a firefighter while she was a nurse. He walked with danger side by side. Hell, he walked side by side with death! But when mum died... he had us, but we were just children, you know? Tommy was just 2, and I was barely 12. We couldn't be strong for him and he knew it. And instead of fighting for us, he turned to alcohol. And... it was up to me, you know? By the time I was 14, I went to school, looked after the boys, looked after him and I even had a job. Two more years, and I had 2 jobs and I spent my weekends in the hospital, either because he had been too drunk or because he had hurt one of us. Every night I would pray that they wouldn't discover that he was hitting us, because otherwise they would have separated the 4 of us, and as the eldest I was supposed to keep the family together. I told myself that I just had to wait until I would be 18, then I would be able to ask for my brothers. I could be an adult." she paused. "by then, he had already killed himself, and all I thought about was that, what if they had found who did it to mum? Would he have gotten closure? 3 more years and Greg wanted to get married. I just... James was already working, and both he and Matt were adult. I could finally live my life. I couldn't get married in that moment, just when... once I was finally free to be myself and discover who I wanted to be."

They stood there for another long time, this time, though, he took her hand in his own, he held her thigh. But always in silence.

"Jane, would you..." she asked. He nodded, because he knew her (he didn't need to red her) and he knew what she wanted, what she needed.

She needed to be that little, lost girl that no one hugged, she needed a shoulder- or a chest- to cry on for all the things she had suffered and never talked about, always alone and on her own.

That night, he didn't get the kiss, but he slept with her in his arms, drawing indivisible patterns on her back, lulling her into sleep. And falling asleep himself, to the steady rhythm of her heart and breathing.


	8. Dance with me unitll the end of time

**Title:Another world**  
**Author:**Little_firestar84  
**Rating:** T (to be on the safe side)  
**Characters: **Patrick Jane, Teresa Lisbon  
**Summary:** They call it the butterfly effect. Just one small, random adjustment, and all changes. And here there is, another world. A world where his daughter has never been, his late wife is an ex and he is still a psych. And yet, few things just can't change. Some things are written in the stars, just like love at first sight.  
**Disclaimer:** Uhm. well, my father is called Bruno, but since it's Negro and not Heller, I'd say tha t I don't own the rights to the Mentalist.  
**Notes:** Extented version of "In this life", published around mid-September.

Thanks to everyone who òeft a review for last chapter and favorited or alerted!

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8

"You know, as intriguing the mystery can be, I hope that there's not a murder at any school reunion." He grinned, amused, as Rigsby drove the killer away in the back of the SUV and they watched the whole thing from one of huge windows of the usually conference room of the high school.

"You've never been to one?" she asked, a bit surprised, but not even too much, if she had to be completely honest. She knew his... education hadn't been that "normal" and that he had escaped the carnie at 18, but maybe... she knew that often carnies went to school in the cities where they stopped, but listening to Jane...

(Beside, she couldn't believe that none of his "flames" had used him at reunions to get back to school mates and exes. She would have been more than happy to show him around, were he her boyfriend. Which, he was, in a contorted kind of way.)

"Uhm, well, let's say that for daddy it was better that I stayed at home - also known as our trailer - and make money with stunts than having me going to school. The majority of what I know, I learnt it by myself." he grimaced, and she almost was angry, both with the man who had cut the wings of such a promising, bright, smart and intelligent creature, with a huge potential, and herself, because of how she had gotten to know about his family. Few months ago, he had confessed her of his... relationship with his father. Thomas Jane was a man who had hurt sometimes his son on a physical level (never too much though, Jane swore. Apparently, he needed his son to appear at his best, during his fake psych-boy wonder number). Unfortunately, he had often taken delight into abusing on a mental level, and exploiting, his only son. From his stories, she could understand why he had turned into the cynical man he had been for so long, void of faith and love and affection. For years, Thomas told his boy that it was his fault his mother wasn't there any longer, and all Patrick could do to repay the favor, so to say, was making his father happy. By using his talents to con people, so that the old man could get more money to waste with drinks, women and gambling.

The last straw had been when Thomas ordered his son to tell a dying girl that, with an amulet, she would be soon better. He should have told her that the future, and the spirit world, said so. Patrick didn't like it, but, still, he did it, but less than two days later, he was gone, bringing Angela along with him.

He had never forgotten that poor little girl- a brunette, just a child, he told her once - and had never forgiven both himself and his father, getting to hate, in his darkest moments, even her family, who had dared to believe in such a thing. The fact that she was dying nevertheless wasn't of any help. Once the talisman had been in her hands, she had stopped treatments, and had died just few weeks after, he had discovered from a newspaper. After the fact, he hadn't stopped playing the psych- it was, after all, the only thing he was able to do- but everything he had done, it had been quite (just quite) harmless. He had never played with people's health, assuring them that with the powers of his hands he could save them (he only did so once, while on a case with Lisbon, and the suspect just believed to be sick. Like he believed that he had a mysterious, hidden cancer because of a team of alien scientists that keep taking him once a week), nor he promised sure results through particular items. Mostly, as Lisbon had put it, he helped people out on a mental level. He gave them peace, closure and hope. Besides, she did believe that her mother was still looking after her from afar, and that her father was to stay in hell because of what his children endured and his final act of betrayal and cowardice. She wasn't going to judge, not at all. Not any longer, at least. (Just the way he had done it, though).

Maybe Teresa was right, and he wasn't such a bastard (yes, that was the general idea he had of himself. The same thought she shared when they first met).

"You know, maybe I should envy you. You avoided a lot of drama and teenage angst. Like the prom. I hated prom." She laughed of that laugh that he knew was for him and him alone, it was the kind of laugh that Lisbon used to make it better, to...she used it whenever he felt bad, just to dismiss a bit whatever their problem was.

Of course, this time there was a tiny fragment of truth, as he was quite sure that she hadn't been thrilled about high school years in general, and not just prom.

"The only reason you say so it's because high school has been terrible for you. You didn't have any female guidance, and was scared of dealing with your peers. Also, adults knew of your situation, and you were disgusted by the pity in their eyes, because you knew that it covered their hypocrisy. They said they cared, and yet nobody was there to help you out when you needed it."

She shook her head, and looked again at the group of people, just in their middle-late twenties. Just few hours before, they had been trapped into a nightmare, each one of them a potential victim or a vengeful killer, and here they were now. They kept saying they wanted to celebrate their fallen friends and life, But Lisbon guessed it had more to do with the fact that these guys and chicks had never left high school. They were the as they had been ten years prior, only now they were mean with subordinates and coworkers instead of school mates.

She was almost considering leaving Jane there- although it was all too true, he had been rude, and he had to understand that sometimes he was supposed to apply a filter to his mouth and keep it quiet, because, just like right now, his words could hurt more than a bullet, could re-open old wounds never truly scarred over - when she suddenly... she was glowing, blushing, smiling of a smile he had never seen on her, playful and joyful.

"Your pupils aren't dilated so it's not about a stud you're so happy about. " he told her with a look that seemed to let her believe that he was supposed to be the stud always in her mind and dreams. "Tell me, is this maybe the favorite song from badass cop Teresa Lisbon?"

She simply shouted him up with an elbow, blushing furiously. The man had the power to embarrass the hell out of her. Maybe it was because they were in that limbo of a relationship, but every look, every word, was charged with sexual energy. And they hadn't kissed yet. They were keeping things very low-key, slow and platonic (well, actually, she was the one doing it. She could say Jane wasn't so against taking few other steps) and when, and not if, they would have finally consumed their story, she could already see the fireworks up in the sky and before her eyes.

"Dating" a mentalist had to have few pros, right?

"I think, my dear, that this was the song you had wished to dance to at your prom, last year of high school, with...a quarterback, right? A handsome, mean boy you just looked to from afar." he offered her hand, smiling, almost radiant. Men, Lisbon thought, weren't supposed to glow. "You can pretend I'm him".

She made a face, like to say, no, we can't, we are on a case, but he silently insisted. In silence, just keeping offering her his hand, without saying a word.

At the end, she accepted, pretending, though, of doing so just because she knew he was going to annoy her.

They moved to the dance floor, smiling at each other like silly teenagers, the kind of people both of them had never been. He took her in his arms, his (somehow) muscular arms around her waist, her strong ones around his neck, on his shoulders, her fingertips gazing his back and sending shivers through his whole being. They slowly moved to the music, maybe not a perfect dance but yet with purpose, and marvelous in their eyes. She put her head in the crock of his neck, and closed her eyes, smiling, blushing, relaxed, sighing content. He inspired her scent, nuzzling her hair with tears in his eyes for the perfection of such a moment, and he tightened his hold on her.

He didn't want to let it go, never, ever.

The music ended, and they stopped. They finally found the strength to look at each other, and what they saw in their irises was just the most beautiful, perfect feeling of them all, love.

They moved in sync, at the same time, and their lips were almost touching, they were breathing in each other's air when they heard a voice calling for them at their back.

Rigsby.

They parted abruptly, blushing like teenagers caught making out in their car or on the couch by a parent, and they listened to their coworker. The murderers had been sent to a local prison for booking, it was too late to drive back to Sacramento, not with such a strong rain probably arriving there in few hours' time.

She nodded, and went to leave, when she remembered that he had drove her there- inside that can of worms, that trap on wheels, like she affectionately referred to his Citroen (despite loving it with a passion). She stopped, already at the door, and turned, just to see Jane already at her side, grinning satisfied.

She hated his cat got the canary grin. She hated it with a passion. And yet, it was one of the reasons she loved him so much.

He put an hand on the small of her back, and they went through the corridors. At the main gate, they found out that Rigsby and the sheriff had been wrong: rain wasn't few hours away, it was already there.

Smiling like a child, he offered her once again his hand: she looked quizzically at the offer, but then she took it. They interlaced their fingers, and grabbing her, he ran toward the car, laughing, tasting the drops and dancing yet again with her, this time while the sky was crying, like it was blessing them, witnessing something unique, marvelous. He kept kissing her, but never on the lips. Butterflies kisses on her chin, brow, cheeks, the corner of her lips, her eyes. Everywhere but her lips, and yet, it was full of love and affection nevertheless.

Love, affection and fun. He was behaving like a child, she thought, joining in the fun, the shadow of a childhood he never had. He was making up for lost time, and he had chosen her for this, to be his companion. Her heart clenched at the idea, but it wasn't with dread as in the past (when Greg proposed and she escaped to California to break up with him over the phone).

Her heart was filled with joy and anticipation.

One last kiss, on the point of her nose- and they finally parted. They were soaking wet when they entered the car- his baby, as he called _her_ - and, as much as he had always treasured that car (It was the first car he had brought when he was 16, fresh of driving license, it belonged to an old guy who treated it like trash, he had felt like he was killing that piece of art. He had paid more to bring her back to her old condition than to actually buying it, for his father's horror) , he couldn't care any less for once.

He drove her back to their motel (in silence, but a comfortable, intimate one), and walked her to the door. It was still raining, and even if she was wet to the core, he didn't want to aggravate things (yes, he feared she could blame a cold on him). So, he protected her with his jacket, not Armani, but still tailored. He hoped she could understand what a sacrifice he was making: he was sacrificing few of the dearest things he had for her.

He left her at her door, retreating like a dog with the tail between his legs. He was starting to feel embarrassed, and tired, that nothing was going on between them (besides platonically sleeping into each other's arms, Jane with boxer and undershirt, Lisbon with panties and a jersey. Football, with her surname on, and the number 19. Probably James'. He always left the bed in the early morning, before she could wake up. He had to resist temptation, to show her he could be a gentleman, that he cared and not just wanted her.) but he wasn't going to pressure her. Lisbon was to decide to progress with their relationship, or whatever it was, on her own.

Then, he heard her calling him. Tentatively, almost scared. He was imagining her biting her lips-she probably wasn't sure about her actions, still was unsure about how he could react. Didn't she know that he was the happiest man alive when he was in her arms, when he hold her at night?

Slowly, he went back to her, and then he stood right before her. Eyes in the eyes, he kept, very casually, but smirking, his hands in his pockets, like what was about to happen was everyday occurrence to him.

She went on tiptoes, and gave him a peck on the lips. He didn't answer, so she retreated, feeling ashamed and enraged-it had probably been all a game to him, maybe she didn't know him as well as she had assumed, maybe he was still the same man she had met so long before, almost a lifetime before.

Then, he smiled, and pressed her against the door, caging her with his body, lithe and yet strong and muscular.

His lips were urging and insistent, his tongue was probing her mouth, parting her lips. After a second of hesitation, she catch up with him, her arms around his neck, her fingers in his curls. His hands were everywhere, mapping her, discovering Teresa the woman and not Lisbon the cop, with no fear nor hesitation, but still slow, and sensual, so, so sensual she was losing her mind.

Smiling in the kiss, he took her in his arms, bridal style, and then, they found themselves inside. They didn't even know how they reached the bed, but one moment they were kissing outside the door, the next one they were on the bed (naked) exploring each other without clothes getting in the way.

He had never had sex like this. Maybe because, finally, he understood what making love was all about.

With Angela, they had been young. They had been each other's first, teenagers under the influence of hormones. It had been all about burning desire and hectic couplings. The release was all that it mattered, getting as much pleasure as possible. Then, he had divorced. He would never lie to her if Teresa would ask: he had been with many women in the years in between, but they were all one night stands, faceless women he got pleasure from and left in the morning when they were still asleep. He didn't know how many of them he had had, and he didn't remember any them, they were just a blur.

This was different. He explored her body, he worshipped it. She was his goddess, the high priest of some exotic and lost church, and he was her faithful worshipper, a true believer. It was all about her. And he had never liked it as much as in that moment. It was like he had been a virgin discovering sex for the very first time. He had never felt that fire, that burning desire and need, to own and being owned.

And then, he knew. The fire he felt, just there, on the tip of his tongue, ready to consummate him from within, was her fire, the same passion he had fallen in love with.

Afterwards, he looked at her sleeping at his side (smiling, glowing) and he silently vow to make everything possible to never lose her. He kissed her hair, tenderly, and wondered how long he was supposed to wait to propose. He could see matching rings in their future, he knew it without being a psych, but, as much as he wanted to, he wasn't going to scare her away by asking her to marry him after just one night together.

(Besides, technically, they hadn't shared any confession of everlasting love yet).

He could wait, though.

After all, in this life they had nothing to be scared of, no one that could get between them, endangering her life or the one of the people close to him because of him and his past mistakes.

But it was just in this one, and it was all so perfect, that sometimes he wondered if it wasn't all just a dream.

**FIN**


End file.
